


Vicious Circles

by joufancyhuh



Series: To Know A Vael [26]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Couples fighting about their children, F/M, Married Life, Pretty far in the timeline, Prince Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: The fight began with a desire -- Sebastian’s desire, not shared by his wife, even protested: to send their daughter into the Chantry for a life of contemplation and service.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Sebastian Vael
Series: To Know A Vael [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/899037
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7
Collections: Tangled Origins





	Vicious Circles

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Is Sebastian's faith ever an issue for a non-religious Hawke
> 
> Special thanks to Kynlei for betaing <3

It had been such a long time since their last serious fight that Kalea forgot how Maker-awful _frustrating_ Sebastian could be when he set his mind to something -- he shared the same sentiment about her. The argument lasted weeks, months even, as a certain chill entered into their marriage. He took the couch, and when that wasn’t enough, she took the other room, only returning to their bedchamber to dress.

He prayed about it, and what once inspired confidence and comfort soured -- prayers twisting from guidance to having his wife surrender in this battle of stubborn refusal. She found no such outlet, but discussed the nuances of this disagreement intensely with her best friend -- Rylen persisted in trying to convince her that both of them needed to sit down and air out their grievances before that chill turned permanent. 

The fight began with a desire -- Sebastian’s desire, not shared by his wife, even protested. And he kept after it because it was tradition, because it gave him purpose in an unsettling time. “Every generation on the throne sends a child to the Chantry,” he stated at the beginning and in every argument that followed. 

They recycled defenses, anger and frustration at not being heard by the other. Inevitably to follow, Kalea retorted, “You _hated_ the Chantry. Being sent there made you feel unwanted, and I won’t have that for Sierra.”

“She knows we love her. This will be good for her,” and “I came out better for it,” justified his stance as this, too, his wife protested. 

“Just because it helped you doesn’t mean it will work for her,” and “She won’t see us sending her away as an act of love, she already feels as though you’re harder on her than the others,” eventually accompanied the rebuttals as her temper flared, voice escalating in volume. 

The children noticed; how could they not? None of them, not even the oldest, witnessed such behavior from their typically loving parents before. Of course, they didn't know why this suddenly came about, or why their parents struggled to resolve it. 

That was until Carver stumbled into another go-round of their fight, loud enough to carry through the door to their bedroom. Neither did it help that Carver pressed his ear against the wood, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“This is ridiculous!” Sebastian’s voice came through muffled, but the words and exasperation in which they were said clear. “How long do you plan for this to continue?”

“Until you give this up!” His mother sounded closer to the door, and Carver prepared himself to jump back at a moment’s notice. 

“She belongs in the Chantry!”

“Sierra belongs with her family, with _us_!” 

Carver listened long enough to gather the details, to understand that his father wanted to dedicate his sister to the Chantry and how strongly his mother opposed the idea. When the argument dissolved into name-calling, he drew in a deep breath and pushed open the door. 

Both of their heads whipped around to see who intruded on this tense private moment, the fury in their faces softening as they registered him. His mother stood by the door, ready to leave back into the guest bedroom, arms crossed over her chest. She exchanged an uneasy glance with Sebastian, who lingered by the bed mimicking her stance. 

“Carver,” she spoke first in the mounting tension, uncrossing her arms and reaching for him. “How long have you been out there?”

“Long enough,” Sebastian answered for their son, all-knowing when it came to the children's sneaking abilities. 

“I’ll go,” Carver said, holding his head high and staring first at his father, then shifting his focus to his mother. 

“No, no,” Kalea said, grasping his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I was just about to leave. You’re fine.”

“No,” Carver corrected, holding his mother’s gaze and returning her squeeze. “I mean, I’ll go in Sierra’s place. Send me to the Chantry instead.” 

Immediate relief swept through Sebastian, his shoulders sagging with the sudden release of the weight of this argument. Now everything would return to normal -- Carver saved them from further entertaining this disagreement. “I think that’s a noble decision, lad. I couldn't be more proud.'” A smile blossomed, the muscles in his face aching from disuse. 

Kalea shot Sebastian a scorched earth glare, the flames in her eyes hotter than the active hearth in the room. The focus gem hanging around her neck flared a brilliant red as it protected the area from a burst of magic in response to the strength of her fury. It flickered only when her attention returned to her son. “Carver, you don’t have to do this. This fight between your father and I, it’s not on you to solve it. You don’t have to give up your life like this.” 

“Mamaidh.” Carver’s gaze traveled around the room, landing on his father who still beamed, then back to his mother, trying her best not to lash out, chewing on her bottom lip as her grip tightened on his hand. “I want to do this.” 

And it should end the argument, but the chill lingered after the fight died down, and Kalea and Sebastian stayed in their separate rooms. They came together only for meals, but focused their attention on the children while ignoring each other. 

Sebastian didn’t understand why her stubbornness persisted after losing the disagreement -- why continue on with the anger instead of allowing things to heal between them? He missed her in early mornings and late nights, the sound of her laughter and the sparkle of her smile, lazy kisses and head massages and the steady sound of her heartbeat in his ear when he laid on her chest or the smell of honeysuckles on damp skin after a bath. In his morning prayers, he asked for this elusive resolution.

Kalea didn’t see Carver dedicating his life to the Chantry, even voluntarily, as a solution -- the larger problem persisted, that her husband refused to listen to her because he considered himself right and all-knowing in this matter, forgetting his own past to only recall only the happier times. They promised, the two of them, that the children would decide their own paths for themselves -- and he either forgot or feigned willful ignorance to the issue. And the _Chantry_ , of all things. He believed, but not all the children shared in his beliefs. 

But what did it matter -- Sebastian got what he wanted and flaunted it in stance. Her residual irritation felt petty and childlike, and he went out of his way to enforce the idea. He always was an insufferable winner. 

Carver took it upon himself to come to his parents individually once he realized his involvement only further exacerbated the situation. He visited his father first, the easier of conversations. 

“Mamaidh was right,” he said as his father strung up his bow, spending more of his time at the archery range to release some of his frustrations. Sebastian nearly dropped the arrow he held at those words, focus shifting to where Carver stood awkwardly by. 

“When you said you wanted to talk, I admit I wasn’t expecting this.” The arrow returned to the bow, and Sebastian pulled back the string before releasing it. It sailed right through the haybale and into the wall behind it. Dammit all, he needed a new target, this one shot from the recent overuse. 

“If you had sent Sierra to the Chantry,” Carver continued, butting into his parents’ business, “she would’ve hated you both for it. She doesn’t belong there.” 

“In time, I’m sure --” 

“No, Dadaidh.” Some of his mother’s frustration turned into his own as he grew to understand why the length of the fight. “She’s not like us. And she sees that you don’t give her the same training as you give Sienna. She thinks you like Sienna more. Sending her away would only enforce that.” 

Both the next arrow and Sebastian’s face fell as he turned toward Carver. “She said this?” 

He nodded, suddenly embarrassed about spilling some of the things his sister told him in confidence. His gaze traveled to the ground as he scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. “We both know Sienna’s taking the throne. I’m not allowed because of my abilities, but she doesn’t understand why she never got the chance to compete for it, even if she wanted it.” 

“Oh,” Sebastian replied, the conversation cascading a waterfall of deja vu over him. Had he really been so thoughtless with his children? Sienna always stood out because she asked the right questions, strived to learn more about ruling whereas Sierra preferred to play and pursue other interests. But he loved them, both of them, and he never intended to hurt Sierra by allowing her to make her own -- _oh_. 

Carver sought out his mother after the success at getting through to his father, finding her hidden among the stacks of books in the library. She smiled when he found her, though a sadness filled her gaze. The book in her hand returned to the shelves, and a self-satisfied grin appeared on his face as he recognized the title, one of the books detailing Brother Genetivi’s explorations. 

“I want to go,” he said, handing her one of the books off the nearby table for her to return. When Kalea only grunted in reply, he continued on. “What’s left for me? I can’t rule for obvious reasons, and Ant always deserved to lead the army, not me. I don’t want to be the one obstacle in his path simply because of my birth. What else am I supposed to do?” 

“Have you told him yet?” Kalea focused her attention on the books, the repetition of placing them on the shelf somewhat soothing. Of course Carver considered Anthony when making his decision -- that boy was too important to her son for him not to. Carver insisted he was over his crush, but Kalea knew better. 

As if on cue, Carver’s cheeks darkened as he averted his gaze out the nearby window. “He said that life would suit me.” 

“Is he right?” But as she spoke, she saw the truth in it. Carver already accompanied Sebastian most mornings for prayer, and attended services regularly. It’s how those two bonded -- Carver often talked about the peace he found there, especially after Anthony broke his heart when the Clachair boy confessed his disinterest in romantic matters. 

He nodded, passing another book. “I’ve been praying about what vows to take. I keep thinking of Brother Genetivi and all he learned in his travels -- that’s what I want. I want to learn things, experience things. A vow of knowledge.”

“You don’t need to be a member of the Chantry to do that.” But it was a fading cry, because a light shone in his eyes as he talked, the first fires of excitement for his future, missing whenever they attempted to plan for it in the past. “You’re happy to go, aren’t you?” 

“Very,” he grinned, even moreso when Kalea reached up to kiss his cheek and ruffle his hair. He resembled his namesake so much that she occasionally did a double-take, and like her brother, her son found peace within an organization that would steal him from his family. 

Sebastian asked him a similar question that night, the two of them sitting out in the salon as they took their tea. “I’m not forcing you into this, am I? Is the Chantry truly where you want to be?”

Carver raised his teacup to his lips, inhaling the sweet scent of chamomile before taking a small sip. “When you and Mamaidh were talking about it, it clicked for me. The Chantry is where I belong.” 

After studying his face for his lying tells, Sebastian nodded, satisfied with the response given. The disservice to his children and his wife weighed heavily on him, but Carver’s willingness to go into a life of service eased some of that burden. He drank his tea, eyes wandering to the hall as his mind played out scenarios for the apology left to make. 

Kalea lingered out in the hallway, waiting to see if the conversation continued. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but after tucking the twins in, she came out to hear doubt creep into Sebastian’s voice after so long of his obnoxious and overbearing confidence. The pounding of her pulse in her ears fought to drown out their quiet voices, but she heard enough. That man, the one sitting out there, that was the man she loved, the one she married, missed in ongoing months of fighting. 

When he stopped by her room late that evening, she almost gave up waiting for him, thinking his conversation with their son was merely a fluke. But he appeared, balancing a tray of chocolate-covered cherries, her favorite, in one hand. “Kalea, I … I’ve been a complete and utter ass. I’m sorry.” 

Accepting the cherries meant accepting the apology, and she wasn’t quite ready to do that. Stepping aside to let him in, the door clicked shut when she sagged against it, arms crossed over her chest. “So you _can_ apologize.” 

He nodded, shame falling across his face as his gaze flickered toward the ground. “There are no excuses for how I’ve acted towards you and the children, the mistakes I’ve made. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me, although I realize it may take time.” Breaking the lock on his stance, he set the cherries on her nightstand, then returned to his original position. “And,” his eyes traveled back up to her face, “I’m willing to listen now, if you still wanted to talk.” 

His eyes shone with such sincerity that it took all of her resistance to stand her ground and avoid getting swept up into his apology and those blue ocean eyes of his. "Why now?"

"It took me too long to realize I made a mistake. Several of them. Lea, I never meant-" As he stepped closer, she shrunk against the door; he fell back to maintain the distance. "Things shouldn't have gotten so out of hand, but I was too deadset on being right, on winning, that I forgot that we're in this together, you and I." 

Her arms uncrossed to dangle at her sides, palms laid flat against the solid wood of the door. "Pretty words and a bowl of cherries doesn't fix this. I'm angry. And I'm going to be angry about this. I need time to feel that." 

"I understand." He gave a single nod for emphasis, though the disappointment crinkling in the corners of his eyes said he hoped otherwise. "I didn't expect things to go back to normal right away." 

She held the door open for him, but when her fingers grazed the inside of his wrist, he paused. "It's a start," she murmured before raising herself up to kiss his cheek. 

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe this is a bad fic, I don't know. What I do know is that I love these two idiots and their kids and I'm stuck on Ashes so I've been focusing elsewhere, further down their timeline.


End file.
